


In It To Win It

by misura



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-08
Updated: 2011-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Paris is nice this time of year."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	In It To Win It

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Neal, what he does when he realizes his anklet isn't transmitting_

"Paris is nice this time of year," Mozzie says, not looking at Neal.

"Europe in November." Neal shakes his head. "I'll pass." Between the two of them, Mozzie is the one more sensitive to things like cold, warmth, humidity, dryness and the curiosity or seeming lack thereof of random passers-by. Paris was never an option.

"Hawaii, then. Granted, not a lot of art, but hey, it's not like you're strapped for cash, assuming, of course, that when you told me about your stash, you were lying – which, if memory serves correctly, you were, so why am I even bringing this up?"

Neal sips his coffee. It's not as good as June's. "Because you're bitter?"

"Wounded," Mozzie says. "Deeply hurt."

"So where do you keep _your_ stash, Moz? Storage unit?"

Mozzie snorts, which could mean 'yes'. "Like I'd tell you." It could also mean 'no', of course.

"Wounded and deeply hurt," Neal says.

"No, see, I _tell_ you that I _won't_ tell you. I'm being honest, because you're my friend, and that's what friends do." Mozzie peers at his tea as if wondering – not so much _if_ it's been poisoned, but _what with_. "South America? I know a guy who knows a guy there."

Neal looks at his anklet. It's not like he's never seen it before, but then, it was a shackle, a way for other people to control him, keep track of him. The light is still on – it _looks_ like it's still working.

Peter will know better, of course. The first time Peter checks the records, Peter will know something is wrong.

"No." Peter has told Neal he's not checking up on him through the anklet anymore. That he _trusts_ Neal. "I'm not going anywhere, Moz." And now Neal can find out if that's true – and if it is, well. Peter was a lot of fun to play with when he was chasing Neal, but that game ended with Neal in prison. A rematch is long overdue, and Neal has no objection to it taking place in a place where Peter might feel he's got a homecourt advantage.

"You're an idiot," Mozzie tells him without heat or surprise.


End file.
